Alternate Self
by yankeebornandbred
Summary: Prequel to No End in Sight. Gabriel is just able to pull himself out of his vessel before Lucifer kills him. And something strange happens to Loki while he and Captain America are slugging it out in Germany. Follows the Avengers movie and set during S5 of Supernatural. Sort of a crack fic, to be honest. Rated T for mild language.
1. Chapter 1

**Update: This story was originally intended to be a oneshot, but it seems like some people have been expecting more chapters. If you'd like more, go ahead and message/follow me. I might consider continuing.**

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I didn't think he would do it, I really didn't. Guess that shows how far familial loyalty goes. Try diddly-squat. And, just to make it clear, the blade (mine, coincidentally) that's impaling me right now is actually really painful. Lucifer looks guilt-ridden. You know, bro, _maybe_ \- just maybe - you wouldn't feel that way if you hadn't just _stabbed_ me.

I don't really have time for inner monologues. If I don't get the hell out of here right now, I won't be around to have one.

"Amateur hocus-pocus. Don't forget, little brother, you learned all your tricks from me."

Ah. I had forgotten that little detail. Maybe I should factor it into my plans next time. Give a guy a break, after chilling with a bunch of bloodthirsty pagan gods for millennia, you tend to forget minutiae about your bloodthirsty siblings.

Haha. Just kidding. You pretend to, but you don't.

A tear is glittering in Lucifer's eyes. It's nice to know you care, brother. Feeling the love here.

Oh, oh, oh. He's going to twist it. I am _so_ out of here.

When I pull myself out, I don't really have a destination in mind. My brain is sort of just screaming _"get out of this universe right now."_ So when I smash into the consciousness of one of my alternate selves, I'm not really surprised. The guy staggers a little (understandably - I'm an archangel, I'm not exactly as light as a feather).

 _What in Odin's name?_

Sweet. I've got half the control of his body. At least I'm not a prisoner.

"Sorry, man," I tell him out loud. "I really didn't have time to think this through. Trust me, I have a good reason."

He seems pretty panicky. This is probably not an everyday occurrence for him. Well, we can go through the learning experience together.

"What are you doing in my head?" he spits at me, also out loud.

I roll my... his... geesh, this is confusing... eyes.

"Oh, stop making such a fuss."

"Loki."

" _Yes_?"

" _Yes_ _?_ "

Wow. Creepy. Two separate entities speaking at the _same_ time with the _same_ vocal chords isn't particularly harmonious to the ears. The man who spoke looks confused but determined. He's an interesting character. A little on the bright side by way of costume. I peer a little closer.

 _Hmm. It's Captain America._

I guess I know which universe I fell into now.

"It's not my fault," Loki (not me) complains.

"Oh, stop your grousing," I tell him. I'm not in the best of moods at the moment. "It's not like I had much of a choice either."

It's then that I look around and see the crowd that is kneeling around us, the people staring at us in terror and shock and confusion. My eyebrows rise in astonishment.

"What the hell are you trying to do here?"

His sullen silence confirms my suspicions. He's trying to take over this earth. Come to think of it, I sort of remember that part from the comics. I shake my head. This guy is, to put it simply, a bit insane. Honestly, I get that "conquer the world" thing, but really? You don't start by attacking people. It's counterproductive. And then I realize what he's wearing.

"Please tell me you're cosplaying as some weird anime character and these aren't your real clothes."

"They are Asgardian battle garments," he retorts.

Whatever. Basically the same thing. Come on, _I_ didn't have to wear crappy golden horns to intimidate people. I just use my natural charm, if you get my meaning.

Captain America is talking through his com-link to someone.

"I don't know," he's saying, "Loki is behaving very oddly... he's talking to himself. I think something or someone is in his head."

Give the man a medal. No, really. He caught on pretty quickly. I like this guy.

Rock music blasts out from the aircraft that's hovering overhead (how Winchesteresque… good times). I look upwards curiously and _clang_. Down comes Iron Man. Welcome to the party.

"What'd I miss?"

"Not much, buddy, not much," I sigh.

I'm already tired of explaining and I've barely done any at all.

"Who are you?" asks the Captain, clearly addressing me and not my host (somehow I get the flattering impression from that word that I can be compared to a parasite).

"Loki."

I know, I could have told him my real name instead of my alias. But, hey, I'm a Trickster - or I was at some point - and there's nothing I like better than messing with people. Everyone looks suitably confused. Especially Iron Man. You know, _suit_ -ably? Ahem, never mind. Bad pun.

"Okay," I say finally, after several minutes of silence. "I'm Gabriel. But I'm also Loki, so that was partly true. I'm just not Loki from here. And, yes, I'm in his body... actually I have control of half of it." I wave the right hand experimentally. Loki glares down balefully at the hand I'm controlling and stops its movements abruptly. "Well, that was rude. Didn't your mother teach you manners?"

"Whoever you are," Iron Man cuts in. "We have to take you in. In case you haven't noticed... uh... Gabriel, this guy's kind of in the middle of an attack on a bunch of civilians."

Ah, yes. I had noticed. This might be inconvenient.

"Okay, whatever. It's not like I'm staying here any longer than I have to."

I'm definitely not. Regardless of how cool this comic book world may turn out to be.

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 **I'd love to get some reviews!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, I feel amazingly virtuous and kind. I AM UPDATING THIS EVEN THOUGH I SAID I WOULD JUST CONSIDER IT! You guys completely overwhelmed me with the reviews and** **favorites and follows. This is the result. Thank you, thank you, thank you!**

 **I have decided to include this in my AFITR (previously known as _Vessel_ _)_ 'verse. So if any of you are wondering how Gabriel survived in AFITR – once he actually shows up – this is how. I might change my mind, though, depending on how cracky this fic gets.**

 **I hope you like Chapter 2! You've waited long enough!**

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So I might be staying in Comic Book Land for a bit longer than I planned.

Mr. Beady Eyes... excuse the mistake, I mean _Eye_ , stares me down in what he probably thinks is an intimidating fashion. Kudos to your efforts, but after a face-off with Lucifer, aka the Morning Star, a-more-commonly-ka the _freaking Devil_ , and in a personal way known as my renegade brother... simply put, it brings to mind an ant sneezing. In other words, it is neither noticeable nor effective, the latter by default due to the former.

 _Cease your mindless rambling._

Hmm. Apparently Loki 2.0 sees fit to raise his heavenly voice once more.

"Riiiiiiight. Cause your mind doesn't ramble at all."

 _It does not._

"Sure it does. Just in the military dictatorship direction."

I think I might have said that last bit aloud because every eye in the room swivels towards me.

"Did you say military dictatorship?" asks Fury (I'm not going to refer to him as Mr. Beady Eye anymore because that's childish and immature and I am neither. Obviously.).

"Umm... no. What are you talking about?"

(Okay, ignore the stuff in the last pair of parens, I take it back).

I try to walk over to that nice, comfortable armchair that's just _waiting_ for me in the corner, and of course the sulky Other-Loki vindictively prevents me from doing so. I kick his... I mean, _my_ other leg just to beat some sense into him, and _wow_ that actually hurt. I wince but suppress the urge to clutch the injured member. It's a matter of pride.

And of course everyone is staring at me like I'm crazy – not that I blame them, after kicking myself and all – so I fix them with the special Gabriel Evil Eye that I concocted to use on Michael and Lucifer during their cat fights. They look away nervously. Mission _accompli_. Although if I wasn't in this sissy body, they'd probably look away shaking in their boots instead of just _nervously_.

Loki's face twists into a scowl at that, so all in all we make a fairly terrifying spectacle. But at least I get to sit down... although I walk over with jerky, uncertain movements since Loki is a sore loser. The room is silent for several long moments.

"I need to get a haircut," I inform nobody in particular.

Because this guy's hair. Seriously. Long, black, curly at the tips. My good old vessel that's lying stabbed in the doggone Elysian Hotel a few universes away was about the limit. Soon I'm going to have a gender identity crisis, or I would if angels had genders, blah, blah, blah. But, hey, I _feel_ like a guy.

Fury's eyes roll upwards as if he's praying that someone will get rid of the newest problem on his plate. Me. I grin, but Loki is too mortified by the hair comment, so half my mouth kind of tips up while the other half looks excessively sulky and gloomy. As I said, sore loser.

"So who did you say you were and how the hell did you get here?"

Time for angsting. _Oh, my name's Gabriel and I'm an archangel but my brother tried to kill me because he's the Devil so now I'm going to get all weepy on your shoulder because the world is unfair._

"I'm the Trickster."

I waggle my eyebrows at them. Cap, who is standing in the corner, frowns at me over crossed arms.

"You said you were Loki and Gabriel last time."

 _Well_. I make a face at him.

"Thanks for totally stealing my thunder," I grumble, kicking my feet up on the back of the chair of the redhead in front of me. She glares. Dangerously. "What's _up_ with you people? You're so touchy!"

"You didn't answer the second part of my question," says Fury. "Gabriel, or whatever the hell you like to be called. How did you end up in Loki's body?"

I wave a hand airily.

"Hello? I'm the _real_ Loki. This is my inferior counterpart's body."

"This entire affair is pointless," growls the inferior counterpart suddenly, making me stand up again. "I will not stand for this."

Fury scowls.

"Just one of you speak at a time."

I push Loki down. Luckily I'm still stronger than him despite his having the advantage of actually being in the right body.

"All right, I'll go first. I'm the..." I would have say oldest but it's always been programmed in my head to put Michael in that spot, so I end lamely, "older... one."

"Then go on and stop stalling!" Fury thunders.

Again, as I said. Touchy.

"It started with the Apocalypse scare," I tell them, sighing. "I was just trying to stay out of it, minding my own business, like the pleasant, mild-mannered chump I am, when _who_ came along but the _friggin' Winchesters_. Of course those nutsos trapped me and somehow they managed to coerce me – I'm actually still trying to figure out how – into helping them and their hopeless cause. Predictably, I admit, I got stabbed and dragged myself here to save my ass. That's the long and short of it."

Fury looks even more skeptical than he did before.

"The Apocalypse, huh?"

"Yep."

I pop the p for cheerful emphasis.

"I'm pretty sure we would have noticed if the Apocalypse was starting," says Fury, still beady-eyed and very suspicious.

"Yeah, I forgot that you're all-knowing," I scoff. "But you're right. Did I forget to mention the part where it happened a couple universe-hops away?"

"He did say he wasn't Loki from here," Tony Stark contributes helpfully.

I throw him an approving look.

"I like you."

"Is that so?" Fury narrows his eyes... _eye_ (I keep screwing up that damn distinction... why can't he just have two like normal people?) at me. I assume his comment is supposed to be referring to the universe-hops and not to whether or not I like Tony Stark. "How, may I ask..."

"You may," I allow graciously.

He shoots me a very unamused glance.

"How," he repeats slowly, "did you manage to conjure enough power to make the... hop?"

"Hop" appears to be a flippant word in his book, and he looks sour. I stand up in a smooth, elegant (if I may say so myself) movement. Loki is either too surprised or too tired to start another of his futile protest rallies.

"I believe I forgot to mention one other thing." I make one of those little Japanese half-bows that I've always liked but never had occasion to use. "Gabriel the _Archangel_ at your service, sir."

* * *

 **So? So, so, so?! How did you like it? Review, please! I'm kinda nervous because it's been a while since I published this and who knows what turn you guys thought it would take. Hopefully it lives up to expectations!**

 **Also, I'm not sure how much or often I will be updating this fic as I have two other infernally long ones to work on, plus another in the works. That's just a warning.**

 **Again, review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I have written the THIRD CHAPTER of a story that was supposed to be a ONE-SHOT. I hope you're thankful.**

 **Keep in mind that this is all very touch-and-go because I have not planned any storyline whatsoever… well, only very vague whispers of one. So if you review you might help shape Gabriel's misadventures. And that, in case you didn't realize, was a bribe, and a rather obvious one at that. In other words, just review.**

 **Tell me if I'm getting too cracky or too rudely-not-funny. There's a fine line between humor and _too much_ humor and help is always appreciated in that area. Thank you and have fun reading this somewhat strange but hopefully funny chapter.**

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Silence.

"I'm getting some strong we-don't-believe-the-crazy-madman vibes," I say finally.

"Angels don't exist," states Fury. "You don't really expect us to believe that."

"I kind of do. Me being one and all."

"You're an angel?" Tony inquires curiously. I guess after meeting gods, an angel isn't much of a stretch. Besides, you know, the obvious fact that they don't belong to the same religion. He makes a weird circular gesture around his head. "Where's your little gold halo? Fluffy white wings?"

"No halo," I inform him, a little shortly, because that's an all too common misconception and I'm frankly annoyed at it. "I'm a _warrior_ , dammit, not a sparkly nincompoop. Read Twilight if that's what you're looking for."

Tony looks taken back but also highly tickled... probably at the sparkly nincompoop part of my sentence.

"As for wings," I continue, deciding suddenly to show them a _real_ display of power, "that's a whole other story."

I stand up. Funny how docile Loki gets when... _ouch_. Crap. He _kicked_ me. What a childish _copycat_. He doesn't even have original ideas for venegeance.

Where was I? Right. One powerful wing display coming up.

I strain my borrowed shoulders to show them the briefest glimpse of my huge, beautiful, other-dimensional wings. My eyes close at some point in sheer ecstasy because I really _feel_ like an angel, for the first time in a long while.

There are no thunderclaps or gasps of awe or shouts of admiration. I open one eye and peer at the humans around me curiously. Fury has an ultra-unimpressed look on his face.

"Uh... I take it something was supposed to happen?"

Tony Stark. Your tactfulness never fails to astound me.

"Yes," I say unhappily, and sit down with a mournful thump. "Something's wrong. I can't feel..."

A wave of panic washes over me and I snap my fingers, alarmed. Nothing happens. I was supposed to have created a giant bowl of pink roses next to Glaring Redhead. Double, triple, _quadruple_ crap.

"Shit," I say, out loud, and slump my one shoulder. " _I don't have any freaking power in this crap-hole_! What the hell am I supposed to do now? This is not okay. This is very, very, very not okay."

"You look perfectly fine," Tony remarks doubtfully.

"I look perfectly fine?" I repeat incredulously. "I _look_? The fact that I'm even talking to you is proof that I'm not! Do you think I would stay here for one more second if I could leave? I'm stuck. Here. In Little Miss Sunshine's body. With curly hair and ridiculously outdated clothes."

With this doleful conclusion, I bury my face in my hands and give a pitiful groan.

"Is nobody going to address the fact that he was apparently _stabbed_?"

Steve's voice sounds a bit high. I jerk my head up.

"Yes. _Thank_ you. For being the world's greatest superheroes, you don't seem too concerned about my poor wounded self."

"You're the one who imposed on us," says Fury unsympathetically.

I glare at him.

"Out of necessity."

He shrugs.

"Doesn't change our point of view. And Loki's still a war criminal."

"But I'm not."

He shrugs again.

"As I said, that doesn't change our point of view."

I stare at him helplessly. A trickle of vindictive gladness slips through my mental connection with Loki, and I jerk away. In a really weird way. Because technically a body can't jerk away from itself, so we just sort of shudder, and jiggle once in one way and once in the other, and then stop. By now, we barely get an odd glance. I guess everyone is sort of getting desensitized to the whole body issue.

And that sounded... gross. Loki must feels the same way, because we shudder again in unison.

"I protest!" I tell Fury.

He looks even less sympathetic.

"Oh, you do, do you?"

"It's against my constitutional rights."

"Last I heard, angels weren't included in the Constitution."

"I'm in a human bod..."

I stop. Right. I'm not anymore.

There's a glint of triumph in Fury's eye, but he doesn't even smirk. For some reason, it makes me feel cheated. No triumphant smirk. No power. No nothing. Just a lonely SHIELD cell with a psychopathic other Loki in my head to keep me company. The future looks bleak.

A flash of inspiration strikes me.

"Wait, what about the alien attack?"

Hah. That got his attention. He turns on me with narrowed eye.

"What alien attack? And where did you hear about it?"

"The attack that Loki was planning? The whole reason why he came here in the first place? Does that... not ring a bell?" Apparently it doesn't. I look back and forth at the blank faces that surround me. "Oh." I grin and wink at them conspiratorially. "Spoilers."

"Gabriel," Fury growls.

Feeling smug, I lean back. Advantage over the enemy is a rare, sweet occurrence that must be slowly savored, saliently, staggeringly, sensationally. Relevancy does not matter when alliteration is king.

"I didn't know we were on first name basis."

" _Angel_."

I don't think that's my last name. I frown. Of course, technically all angels are siblings, so maybe "angel" isn't actually a species, but a surname for a very powerful family. Michael Angel. Lucifer Angel. Gabriel Angel. I wince. Weird.

Okay, moving on from slightly strange, soul-searching moment.

"Well, it all starts with a company called Marvel."

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 **In the very unlikely case that you didn't get the point made in the author's note above, REVIEWS WOULD BE GREATLY APPRECIATED, THANK YOU!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, here's the fourth chapter. _Whew_. I had no idea I would even write a second one, but you guys are absolutely awesome and your extremely encouraging reviews and likes and favs and follows are incredible motivation for me. Last chapter hit 22 reviews altogether, which is a new record (as much of a record as there can be with only three, and now four, chapters, but that's just a technicality).**

 **I'm starting to kind of plan out the plot, and I'm going to turn this into a relatively long fic, but it will be centered mostly on the evasion of Loki's invasion (sue me, I totally did that for the -vasions) and less on previous Supernatural characters and a supernatural storyline. Hope you like it anyway.**

 **Especial thanks to my reviewers: thephoenixandthedragon4ever, Guest, Hibarilova18, Heatherstrike, Sparky199, Sailor Pandabear, Lokiismylife, deathnoteno1fan-codegeasslover (whew, that was a mouthful, sorry if I misspelled it), cbelits, Guest, Guest, MaddyR, Beloved Daughter, Avalin Rose Ellyot, StarlightGilgalad, lunaz, Crossover Junkie, The best guest, DGtnsl, Mumia0813, JazzdeWatt, and The best guest. Whaddya know, I have two best guests! You are extremely wonderful, rainbow-colored, cotton candy unicorns, all of you, with a cherry on top.**

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"I've got my own comic book series?" asks Tony, gleefully. He spins around to face the others. "And a movie? That... _that_ is cool."

Fury's one eye is staring at me with an I-can't-believe-SHIELD-is-not-top-secret expression. I shrug helplessly. It's not _my_ fault.

"So basically you know everything about our future," says Steve, sounding intrigued.

"Well, not exactly," I admit. "Here's the prob, Bob. I was never _in_ any of your lives' dramatizations, so this plot is already going way off the line. Right around now you're supposed to be stopping Loki's army of kooks from attacking the Big Apple."

"They are not _kooks_."

Loki surges up from his place of mourning for his lost glory to spit out the sentence, and everyone recoils from him... me... us.

"Shut up. You don't even know what a kook is."

"I know enough to recognize that it is a derogatory manner of addressing my army," Loki seethes, and retreats before I can push him down again.

I shake myself like a dog to restore a semblance of control and glance back up pleasantly.

"Sorry for the interruption. He gets a little cranky sometimes, the little darling."

Unfortunately, I think the kid's getting smarter. He doesn't even bother to answer that little remark, and being ignored is considerably more annoying and considerably less amusing than his little comments. Oh, well. Nothing good lasts forever.

"So," I say brightly, "what's our next course of action?" I rub my hands together in anticipation. "Go on a little alien-hunting trip? Cook up a fantastic, superheroic offense? Boil a magic potion?"

"I might be a comic book character in your world, but I'm no Harry Potter," Fury observes blandly.

"You're kidding. You've actually read those?" Tony asks doubtfully, but his eyes are glittering with something most accurately akin to diabolical jubilation.

Fury ignores him.

"Do you know where Agent Barton is?"

"I would, if..." I trail off, and Fury sighs.

"If?"

"If I dug around in Loki's mind. But," I continue firmly, "no can do. At least not unless we're in dire circumstances. It's a principle of mine."

"Listen, Gabriel, your principles don't mean _shit_ when my world is in danger. It's my job to keep it safe and I'm not going to stand for any of your half-assed attempts to amuse yourself, much less if they put you between me and the common good."

"You listen," I hiss scathingly, drawing myself as tall as I can and wishing even more for my Grace, because _damn_ I would be more awe-inspiring with it. "I _might_ have left Heaven after things got real bad, and I _might_ not have interfered with my dick brothers' plans for the Apocalypse, and I might _even_ have tried to push it along a little myself, but I haven't quite lost my sense of common decency and invading someone's mind is definitely on the no-no list! So unless you can do it yourself – which you can't – then shut up and don't bother to bring it up again."

Fury watches me unflinchingly for several long moments of silence.

"Fine," he agrees finally. "Then you'd better figure out some other way to get my agent back, because you're sharing a body with the guy who brainwashed him."

"Fine," I snap back, and plop myself back down on my chair with crossed arms. "But I'm not..."

A deep rumble interrupts my words, and the universe practically cracks right in front of me, and a pure, white, comfortingly familiar light fills me, and suddenly I'm _me_ again. My wings flare outward and the lightbulbs explode and the whole room feels like it's barely containing a whirlwind. And then it stops.

Darkness settles (there are no windows here as we're in the bowels of the Helicarrier... and _that's_ a phrase I never thought I would say) and the faint tinkle of glass shattering on the ground breaks the abrupt silence.

"Okay." Fury sounds almost as admirably unimpressed as usual, but I hear a slightly odd note in his voice. "So you're an angel."

"Yeah." Even I feel sort of awed at myself (which is stupid, I know, but I'm just that mind-blowing), and I snap my fingers wonderingly, half expecting nothing to happen. The lights blink on, and I grin widely. Oh, yeah, _baby_. Then I sort of dig around in my newly retrieved little well of power and discover that it's... well... _little_. It isn't all there.

"Not completely, yet," I amend, out loud. "It's coming back in bits and pieces. But I'm a little less useless than before."

"As in 'find-and-kill-all-the-aliens' a little less useless or 'fix-all-the-broken-lights' a little less useless?"

"'I will find them, and I will kill them,'" I intone, and grin again. Grace makes the whole world feel happier. "Aw, don't get your panties in a twist." Fury looks constipated at the very idea. "I'll be real helpful. Maybe I haven't got all my mojo back yet, but archangels have a lot of it, so even a fraction is a fair amount. And of course you've got the help of my incredible mind."

"Funny," says Fury dryly.

"I'm a funny guy."

"Right. Well, stow the funny and get to work."

"You're not my boss," I grumble, but to be honest I have nothing better to do, so why not look for ol' Hawkeye? I lift my wings invisibly – and _man_ is it good to feel them again (even if I've only been missing them for about three... four hours?) – and I'm just about ready to flap off when Tony snaps his fingers triumphantly. I whip my head around instinctively, half expecting some weird-ass object to spontaneously appear behind me.

"You're Gabriel!"

I stare at him. Yeah, I didn't expect him to be _that_ dense.

"I think we established that a while ago, buddy."

"No, no, no." Tony waves me off. "No, I mean, you're _Gabriel_. Like, _the_ Gabriel." He spins around excitedly to face everyone else. "I mean, the face totally threw me off at first, but he's _Gabriel_."

"I think that _you_ think that explains something... somehow," says Redhead – I suddenly remember that she's actually friggin _' Black Widow_ – and she shares a grimace with Steve in that completely fed up parental way. Shit. Scrap that. In that completely fed up _Michael_ way, and that's just what I need.

Tony ignores her and turns back to me.

"You're _just_ like him. Your voice, your mannerisms, your... your _hand motions_... they all scream 'Trickster.' And Loki, you said you were Loki. And the snappy finger thing. Holy shit. Holy _shit_."

I stiffen. What the hell is he talking about?

"You're Gabriel. From _Supernatural_."

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 **Hahaha, it's seriously been my dream to throw together a bunch of movies and comics and shows and universes into a messy mix-up of chaos. A reviewer suggested this, and I'd been thinking about it before anyway (I wasn't sure if that was a little too much), so the review cemented my decision.**

 **Hope you liked it! And, seriously, I LIVE for reviews.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, look how awesomely fast I'm updating!**

 **In case you notice – which you will – I'm going to be writing slightly less humor since I'm turning this into an actual, plotted story instead of a cracky one-shot. Don't worry, humor will definitely not disappear, but there'll be a bit of angst as well, as I can't ignore past events. Which are, you know, angsty. So. Hope you like it.**

* * *

 _Supernatural_? Yeah, not ringing a bell.

"What the hell is that?"

Tony grins.

"Probably the best TV show ever."

"Hmm." That's interesting. "Is it about me?"

"Dude, no," Tony scoffs. "It's about Sam and Dean Winchester. And Baby, of course... she's a real beauty."

I groan and bury my face in my hands.

"Oh, Dad. Not those two lugs again. Seriously? What am I, then? A side character?"

"You're actually just in four episodes," Tony confesses apologetically, and adds, "but everyone loves you. You've got a big fan following."

Big comfort... it is still kind of interesting, though. A TV show. I lift up my head and peer at Tony.

"Fan following, huh?"

"Yeah. They ship Sabriel."

" _Please_ tell me that isn't what I think it is."

"It's you and Sam."

"Oh, Dad."

"Together."

"Oh, Dad. No way. This is a nightmare, right?"

"Don't sweat it. Destiel is more of hit, anyway," Tony presses on, unaware of the psychological damage he's causing. My brain is practically turning into a mush of horror. "You know, Dean and Castiel. Doing the..."

There's only so much a man – archangel – can take. I fist my hands over my ears, hoping he'll get the hint.

"Nope. I do _not_ need the mental image. Actually, you know what? I'll just pretend I didn't hear anything."

Tony rolls his eyes.

"If it's any comfort, they also like to write a lot of fanfiction about redemption arcs for you."

"I don't need a redemption arc," I inform him, with a contemptuous sniff.

"Well, you did kill a bunch of people..."

"They deserved it."

"And you stuck Sam in an endless loop of Tuesdays..." Tony continues relentlessly.

"Come on, I let him out eventually."

"What about TV land?"

I grin widely.

"You gotta admit, that was awesome."

"True," Tony concedes. "And I suppose lots of people think you already redeemed yourself in 'Hammer of the Gods.'"

I freeze, because even the name (of the episode, I expect) alone sounds a bit too close to that little incident I happen not to be too keen on reliving. My stomach clenches painfully. _Amateur hocus-pocus... don't forget, little brother, you learned all your tricks..._

"... from me."

I start, not having realized that it was Tony who had been saying it, and not... him.

"Shut _up_!" I snap, wrapping my arms around myself, because it's still _hurting_ , and _geez_ , did he have to say that? I try to stop my (Loki's) body from trembling, but it's hard. And tremendously embarrassing, in a room full of curious and unscrupulous SHIELD agents.

"Kali was hot," says Tony, after a long moment of complete silence. There's an unspoken apology in his tone, and I contemplate viciously whether or not I should accept it. But there's no use in forming new grudges.

"Yep, she damn sure was."

For some reason, my stomach is still aching, and suddenly I can feel wetness against my sleeves. I lift my arms. They're coated in blood. Shit.

"Holy shit!" Tony yelps, backing away in surprise. "What the hell is that?"

Wounds that travel over time and space are... how should I put it? Yeah. _Not fun_. Painful. I cough a little, already feeling the effects. Guess the stab wound and my Grace are a package deal.

"Look, guys," I say hurriedly, because I don't have a ton of time (I'm sort of thankful for the distraction anyway). "I have to pull back for a bit and let Loki take charge while I deal with this. Sorry, One-Eye, I can't look for your agent right now. Give me a few hours."

Give me a few _years_ , maybe, because wounds like this take a freakishly long time to mend themselves, but a few hours will let me patch it up to a certain extent. Hopefully Loki won't wreak too much havoc while I'm out of order.

"Wait, what are you..."

"Make sure you stick old Pokey Loki in prison while I'm gone."

* * *

Some things just aren't meant to be, such as Loki and a lack of chaos closely associated with each other in any way. With the gaping hole in my stomach acceptably healed, I wake up in a cylindrical cell that is a laudable attempt at confining Loki, with bullet-proof glass all around... except for the open door. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think the purpose of a prison door is to be, I don't know, _closed_?

The whole Helicarrier is in uproar, but the clearest distress signals are coming from a few floors away... from red-haired former Russian spy to be specific. I fly up, my wings twinging slightly, and land in a very mangled passage. A huge hole has been blasted through the ceiling, causing it to collapse in a veritable shower of steel beams and sharp sheets of metal.

Bruce is hyperventilating, panting and gasping for breath as he fights to regain control of the Big Guy, and Natasha looks only just barely less freaked out, red curls bouncing around her head distractedly. I jump in to help, as always (Helpful, Under-Appreciated Me), and tap Bruce on the head. He goes limp, falling into a handy-dandily magicked sleep. Natasha takes a deep breath of relief.

"Thanks," she says, sincerely, and I nod back, because who doesn't like a little gratitude towards Number One? "I was worried for a second there."

"How did you know it was me?"

"Because you're not attacking me."

Right. That explains the you're-an-idiot look. I yank the beam off her and hope another bit of wayward Grace will find me soon; my current supply is starting to run a little low. It's grating how weak I've become. But I pause, her words prompting something to click together in my mind.

"You're not gonna," I begin doubtfully, "start... I don't know... _kissing_ the guy or anything? Please let that be a no."

She scrambles to her feet, the slight widening of her eyes betraying the shock I can sense pouring off her in waves.

"Wh... what?"

I nod again, this time in relief, and heave Bruce to his feet. Sort of. Except he's still out cold and I'm still supporting him, so I guess I'm just going to have to carry him out like a baby... a really, big, heavy baby.

"Good."

"Why would you..."

"Don't. Even. Ask." I tell her firmly. "Honestly. I go forward in time _once_ and get traumatized for life."

She blinks at me, once.

"Yeah," she says finally. "Yeah, I don't think I will. Okay. We'd better find Clint before he causes any more trouble."

With that, she marches down the wrecked hallway, ignoring the hole in the ravaged ceiling above us and, predictably, me struggling with the Two-Ton Wonder here. Damned Grace just never knows the right time to show up.

"What happened?" I call after her. "Why Clint? Why doesn't anybody tell me anything?" She disappears past a corner. "Seriously, you're an archangel and people expects you to know everything by _default_ ," I complain to Bruce.

His head lolls further.

"Not that you give a shit."

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	6. Chapter 6

**Ooh, it's been a bit of a while. Thanks to my most recent (incredibly versatile ;) guest reviewer for providing me with motivation to write this chapter. Chapter 6! Hope you like it!**

 **A great, big thank you to thephoenixandthedragon4ever, Drawing My Life, Cira Heartfilia, consultingsorcererof221B, MaddyR, Lokiismylife, Avalin Rose Ellyot, Crossover Junkie, Beloved Daughter, Sparky199, Sailor Pandabear, Mumia0813, Sakura Isthill, angel de acuario** **, and Guest for your superb reviews!**

* * *

"Sorry, okay?" I repeat for the hundredth time, and roll my eyes for good measure. "Look, a guy can make a mistake. Besides, I was kind of panicking at the time and I wasn't thinking about your little... big... Loki problem."

Fury glares at me and mutters something about angels being a lot less useful on shoulders than he'd read. Well, good for you. I didn't think you... even _could_ read.

On second thought, I'm glad I didn't say that out loud.

Everyone seems to think I should have told them about Loki's big plan to get onto the Helicarrier (who on earth thought of that name, anyway?) and cause a bunch of explosions and make Hulk show up. Look, when you're coughing blood up onto the floor and freaking out about a damn hole in your stomach, then you can talk.

"And," I continue, taking a page out of Loki's new book and pretending I don't hear Fury's comment, "it all worked out anyway." I grin and spread my arms to demonstrate. "Brucie's sedated, Loki's under control, and you got your precious agent back. Couldn't be better."

"Except now," says Fury grimly, "I've got to deal with a Helicarrier that's badly damaged and several wounded agents, both of which could have been averted if you'd just given us that bit of head warning."

"I think you're missing something here," I inform him, rather frigidly. "I don't _want_ to be here. In fact, I'm just stuck until my super battery recharges. I don't feel any particular desire to help you with your alien infestation."

Of course, then I get a host of shocked and wounded looks, as if the thought had never occurred to them that someone might not want to jump right into their dangerous and possibly deadly little skirmish. It's common sense, really, but I guess that isn't a strong point with superheroes. Regardless, I unfortunately seem to have jumped – literally – except from the fire into the frying pan rather than vice versa as the saying goes, since this situation isn't nearly as bad as my last one. Still, it isn't awesome either.

"What?! Seriously, I don't!"

Nobody says anything for several, long minutes.

"I took the liberty of researching your character in that television show Stark was rambling about," says Fury finally. "Didn't sound like a particularly admirable guy." I press my lips together tightly and shoot a hostile look at him, which he ignores. "That is, until he decided to stand up to the enemy..."

"You know that's my brother you're talking about."

"The one who tried to kill you. I know. The point is, before he made that choice, he was pretty much a coward... he thought that if he looked the other way, his problem would disappear. I'm not trying to have you make this your fight, but I would like as much information as you can give me. There are thousands of agents I'm responsible for. I'm not too keen on writing a pile of condolence letters for them."

Damn it. I really, really wish the guy didn't make sense, but he sort of does. And he accepts his responsibility, which is... admirable, but definitely not something I envy. Double damn it. This silence is too freaking _expectant_. What do they expect me to do? Fall on my knees and start blubbering about how I never thought about the poor agents and how I'd love to help as much as I can? Yeah, not going to happen.

"Do you want the short version or the long version?"

Fury's face makes the barest of twitches.

"Your choice."

"Short version: I really wish you could look this up on IMDb. Long version: well, that starts with the Tesseract the guy stole from you a while back. You know, the blue, glowing, powerful, cube thing..."

"I know what the Tesseract is," says Fury, not looking too happy with my prolonged explanation.

"Well, a gold star for you," I reply dryly. "That was mainly for the rest of the audience. As I was saying, Loki stole the Tesseract and he wants to use it to form another portal to let a bunch of super strong, creepy aliens into your world. You're all going to die." I smile benignly. "Congratulations."

"Dude." Tony breaks the somewhat horrified hush that falls over the room. "If there's one thing I know, Hollywood hates to end movies on a bad note. We're not going to die."

I narrow my eyes at him.

"Dramatic effect, Stark, it's called _dramatic effect_."

"So we don't die?"

"At this point, I'd say that's an 'unfortunately not.'"

Before we can continue our friendly exchange, an alarm starts to blare loudly overhead. Fury's head shoots up, his one eye peering sharply at the ceiling.

"Intruder," he says, shortly. "Tony..."

"On it."

Tony disappears through the door and Fury turns on Steve.

"Captain, I'd like you to follow him up. I'm not sure what's happening, so he might need you as back-up. Gabriel, you too."

I wring my wrist helplessly in the air.

"Not to be deliberately unhelpful," I tell him regretfully, "but my Grace has gone poof again."

Fury looks like he is about to throw up his hands in frustration, but thinks the better of it.

"At least take care of yourself so nobody else has to," he growls finally, stalking towards the door, "and keep Loki out of trouble."

"O-" he vanishes just as quickly as Tony, and I look around the room, only to find myself alone. Again. "-kay," I finish, to nobody in particular. I nod to myself. "Guess I should get going."

A deep rumble interrupts me as I take a step forward, and I freeze. Rather, I _myself_ don't freeze, but my body freezes. I frown and waggle my foot experimentally. It doesn't move. Oh, crap. Fury, why the hell did you put that second responsibility on me?

"What's your problem?" I bark at Loki, who's clearly taken control again to some extent.

"Let's just say I'm about as eager to see my brother as you are to see yours."

Loki's voice is sullen with a trace of fear in it. It's the fear that makes me pause.

"Ouch. I feel you, Lokester." I halt, startled, without even listening to Loki's mumbled complaints about the nickname. "Wait, do you mean Thor? Thor's here? _Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious_ , you mean the real friggin' Thor?"

"I wouldn't be worried if he wasn't real, would I?" Loki snarks, and begins to walk in the opposite direction.

"Hey, hey, hey!" I grab onto a table with my hand as we pass by, and I hang on for dear life. "Hold it! Hey, Thor's not so bad! It's not as if he's going to attack y..."

I trail off as I remember the scene where he does – sort of – attack him.

"My point is," I continue, after a beat, "you're still his brother, Loki, he still cares about you. You've got a chance to make this better. Don't throw it away like a... like a stupid _idiot_!"

Loki's concentration slips a little, and I grab onto the control that he releases with a sigh of relief. Thank goodness for small mercies. At least now I'll make sure we don't end up jumping off the side of the Helicarrier into the briny deep because of Loki's attitude. Honestly, I don't understand; he's the one with the totally awesome superhero brother. All I've got is the devil. Some Lokis just get all the luck.

While it's good that I have a fraction more control than he does, that fact appears to provide Loki with another devious idea.

"If you so long to meet Thor," he says stiffly, "then deal with him yourself."

He begins to retreat, allowing me full rather than partial control. After a moment of panic, I pull him back.

"Look, man," I tell him sharply. "I'm not facing your brother for you. I already faced mine. Don't be a pussy about this."

"It was different for you, Gabriel," he snarls back, with sudden ferocity. "You had nothing to lose. I've seen it, in your mind. The world was ending, the woman you loved about to be killed, the family you cared about tearing itself to shreds, and the only thing you had left to do was face your brother. It isn't like that for me. If I go to him now, I lose my freedom, and if I lose that, I lose everything."

"Well, boohoo for you," I retort, when I can trust my voice enough to answer. The fact is, I think he might have hit the nail more closely to the mark than even he knows, and it's unsettling. "So this is better? Being on the run for the rest of your life? It's only going to get worse, and you know that. Eventually it'll come to the point where he doesn't even _want_ to reconcile anymore, and then you'll wish you'd taken this chance. I won't be there anymore either, Loki, to give you even the smallest helping hand because, believe it or not, I don't want that to happen to you. You're still really a kid, you know, and this is just a little temper tantrum about not getting what you want, but it has the potential to ruin..."

"Loki?"

This time we both freeze. I'm pretty sure I recognize that voice, and I'm even more sure that Loki does. Loki either can't or doesn't want to turn around, so I do it for him. I start from the ground up. Viking boots, check. Cape, check. Hammer, check. I'm pretty sure I've got enough to conclude...

"Thor."

* * *

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	7. Chapter 7

**Eek, it's been a while! I hope y'all don't hate me. You know how after cliffhangers you get those awful writers' blocks just _because_? Yeah. Issues.**

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Thor stares at me – well, Loki as far as he knows – with obvious shock. His fingers slacken against Mjolnir and almost let go before he remembers it probably isn't best to drop a magical hammer. Because trust me. It isn't. I know from experience.

"Loki. Brother, I..." he falters, emotion plain on his face, and makes as if to come forward.

I can feel Loki shriveling up and pulling away. Wuss. I yank him back, glaring at him internally (if that's possible). Thor halts. Something in my stance must have clued him in to the situation.

"You are not yourself," he accuses, his expression changing from troubled to suspicious.

"Yes, I am," I retort, preoccupied mentally with a Loki who seems to have reverted to his stubborn five-year-old self. "Oh, geez, quit fussing! Moron."

Thor scowls, his hammer hand twitching. "You presume too much too soon, Loki, to speak with such disrespect. You are fortunate it was I who came to retrieve you and not another."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold your horses!" I wave frantically for him to calm down, my wings ruffling automatically in agitation, and I almost... _almost_ grin again. It's awesome to have them back. Of course I don't grin, though, because Thor's face befits well that of the god of thunder, and I am the very picture of prudence. "Listen, man, it's all good. We're having a little mix-up here. Well, a big mix-up. One of epic proportions."

"You are not Loki," says Thor, hissing out the words with danger in his tone. Fingers of lightning begin to dance around the head of his hammer. "Get out of my brother, filth!"

"No!" I yelp. Crap, this is _not_ the way I was hoping this conversation would go. "No, dammit..."

Everything explodes into chaos before I can finish my sentence. Thor brings down Mjolnir with a deafening crack of thunder and lightning and I sidestep only just in time. Even so, it glances over my shoulder, and my already wounded grace lashes out viciously. _What did I tell you?_ I think, a little bitterly, as we're thrown away from each other. I slam against the inside of the hull, which immediately crumples under the pressure, and then I'm outside, in free fall, turning over and over in air as the ground spins to meet me, and...

And I freely admit that I'm a drama queen. Come on. I'm an angel. I have _wings_. Thor's just lucky he wasn't the one who was tossed overboard. I pop back into the wrecked room, no biggie (although my wings twinge in protest, which sucks ass), and tsk at Thor reprovingly.

"I told you not to." In case you were wondering, I _do_ feel a little aggrieved. Methinks someone is in dire need of a team building activity. Maybe a trust fall, if you get my feel.

"What are you?" Thor snaps. He's bundled up comfortably in a corner under bent steel framework and random pieces of shattered things and somehow still manages to convey a don't-mess-with-me attitude. I pause for a brief moment to admire that.

"I am Loki," I tell him finally. He opens his mouth, anger shining in his eyes, but I snap his mouth shut. He struggles to his feet. "No, honestly, I am. There's me-Loki and your brother-Loki, and we're sharing a body for now. It's not that big of a deal... dude!"

I choke as his fingers wrap around my throat, and we start some sort of weird tug-of-war. Unfortunately, my neck is the prize.

"It isn't my fault!"

I don't think he cares.

"You know you're basically killing your brother right now, don't you?"

He pauses and I gasp for breath, rubbing the damaged throat experimentally. Oh, yeah. I don't actually need air. It added a touch of urgency to the whole choking thing, though.

"I will..." I stop to reconsider what I'm going to say. "I will," I say again, carefully, "let you talk again _if_ you are reasonable. Hear me out for at least a minute."

I snap again with some apprehension. Thor doesn't miss a beat.

"How came you to enter my brother's body?"

I cringe. "Oh, Dad, that sounds so wrong."

I'm starting to think the guy knows nothing about propriety. First of all, don't choke people upon introduction, and second... well, we won't get into that.

"I hate you all," I mutter, straightening Loki's get-up indignantly. I'm just about sick of explaining things over and over and over again. Yeah, I'm Gabriel. I'm Loki. I'm the Trickster. And I'm apparently in a TV show called Supernatural. My brother almost killed me, but, as I said, I'm the Trickster, so that doesn't mean much.

Why on earth did I end up in Avengers-verse, of all places? Why not the 007-verse with a few Bond girls for atmosphere?

Thor's forbidding glower brings me back to earth from visions of white bikinis. I sigh, gently and regretfully, and get down to business. The rest of the gang has already gathered at the demolished doorway and are watching with anticipation and unease.

"It was very much an accident," I say quickly, to make things clear. "I meant to jump out of my universe to get away from this... guy..." I stumble awkwardly and embarrassingly over that part, but thankfully no one comments, "but I must have messed up somewhere because instead of just jumping, I jumped in _here_." I gesture at Loki-me with a sigh. "Into my alternate self."

Thor is appraising me carefully. I seem to pass whatever test he's made up because he eventually exhales deeply and nods.

"I believe you," he says simply, and then his face hardens. "But my brother must be punished for his crimes against Asgard and the Allfather."

Loki's disappointment is sharp but unsurprised. I feel a pang of concern for the kid.

"Hey, tone it down a little," I snap defensively. "He made a mistake. That's it."

"A costly mistake." Thor sounds no less fierce despite his muted air of guilt and reluctance. "One that has taken Midgardian lives and will take more if he is not stopped."

"But it was still a mistake. He's young." I ignore Loki's affront, gulp, and continue recklessly. "Call him a rebellious teenager, if you will. Whatever he's done he can come back from."

 _Silver clashes against silver, glinting, twisting in the air. With a earsplitting screech, one blade slips, sliding rapidly past the other's hilt, and grace bursts out through the gouge it makes._

 _"Never," Lucifer spits, with cold fury. "Never, do you hear me?"_

 _Michael is calm, ignoring the wound as if it's only a minor inconvenience._

 _"Very well."_

"He can still come back from it," I repeat, and I hate myself for the pleading I can hear in my own voice. Then, remarkably, Loki pokes a tentative finger forward. I let him take over.

From Thor's expression, he notices the shift. His eyes are wary and calculating, but they're hopeful. There isn't a trace of that awful, calm acceptance.

"Brother," Loki says, stiffly.

* * *

 **Sooooo… how'd you like the Thor confrontation? Did it live up to expectations? Did yah hate it? Love it? Review box is below! Thanks!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry about the freakishly long waits between chapters. They're short, I know, but if I write too much humor at once I tend to write it badly. So I try to space it out. Hope you like the chapter!**

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"Loki." Thor stares at him, eagerness and anger warring for dominance on his face. Finally his expression twists into a mixture of the two and he walks forward with long, swinging steps. Mjolnir hangs rigidly at his side. "You acted a fool, Loki! What in Odin's name were you thinking?"

Salty heat pools in my mouth and only then I realize that Loki is practically chewing his tongue off. The dude is going to self-destruct at this rate.

" _Lay off the cannibalism, kiddo_ ," I tell him. The words echo weirdly in our shared headspace and Loki's mouth doesn't move, but he does unclench his jaw... slightly. " _That's better_."

"I..." Loki starts, but his voice is too quiet for his brother to hear and Thor continues with rising agitation and vehemence.

"I thought you were dead. We mourned you, all of us, and we were still grieving when word reached us of your misdeeds here on Midgard. Does that mean nothing to you?"

"I hardly think your father would have cared," Loki says, his tone deceivingly light.

Thor's eyebrows are drawn down low and dark, but Loki presses on with a deliberately constructed front of carelessness.

"I don't doubt your sincerity, brother." His chuckle is too convincing. I wince. Why the hell doesn't anyone take my advice? And I'd thought the wayward vessels were the worst. "I only doubt the authenticity of your claim. I am in no way Odin's son, and he never thought of me as such. I do appreciate your never-changing loyalty..."

We're slammed up against the wall before he can say another word. Thor scowls at us across Mjolnir's shiny surface.

"That is what you've believed this whole time?" he growls. "He treated you like his own blood, and for that you spit in his face?"

"I am _not_ his blood. I've always been a pawn, chosen to serve the greater good," Loki seethes, shoving futilely at the hammer. I add an extra kick of power, but unfortunately I don't seem to be worthy. Surprise, surprise. "Think logically, Thor! I am the son of Odin's greatest enemy. Call me leverage, a bargaining chip, but do not to my face call me his blood!"

This crappy situation is getting worse by the second. Thor's eyes burn with anger, and there is a very concerning recklessness bubbling up inside Loki. Not that he wasn't reckless before. When I say worse, I mean worse. For the first (second? third, fourth, hundredth, thousandth?) time, I wonder whether he might have actually gone a little nuts.

"I want to be my own person – no ties, no vows of allegiance. I won't grovel at the feet of someone who thinks I am..." Loki chokes and stutters to a stop. "Look at me, Thor."

His hands are slowly turning pale blue.

" _Look_ at me," he barks, as Thor pales and steps back. "I am an abomination. I am one of those I myself would have killed mere years ago. You think Odin loved me? Spare me from your idealistic ravings!"

A rebellious little brother who thinks he's a freak and tries to destroy the world. An obedient older brother who defends their father and tries to follow in his footsteps. Slaughter and destruction, and in the end everyone loses. It's the same endless cycle, over and over and over again. Somehow I always end up in the middle. How is that fair?

Loki's tongue is suffering again. I prod him – bad idea, thanks for telling me ahead of time – and he does the mental equivalent of a punch to my jaw. Ouch. Goshdarnit.

Thor's shock wears off in seconds, and he returns to his former position with an obstinate air. Loki's gaze flicks across the room and I catch a brief glimpse of red eyes in the shattered windows. The wind blows lustily. Thor's hair whips around his shoulders. I feel an insane urge to laugh.

"Look at me," Loki repeats, but he doesn't sound half as brash and manic as he did a few minutes ago. He's afraid, I realize with a jolt. Not of Thor, really. Of rejection.

 _I... I couldn't handle the rejection._ Funny how the most idiotic quotes pop up at inappropriate times. But, hey, not gonna complain. This whole shebang is getting a little too tear-jerky for comfort.

"O-okay, chick flick moment over," I cut in hastily, before everyone starts weeping and braiding each other's hair. "Cry me a river, fellas. Do I look like I care? Hurray, we've got issues all round. Three cheers for Rapunzel, Smurf, and Disembodied Asshole. Let's cut to the chase."

" _Gabriel_ ," says Loki, highly annoyed, but this time he's trapped inside and I can do what I want. So there.

 _Arse_. I mimic his stiff British accent (Or is it Asgardian? Who are the copycats here?).

 _I don't sound like that._

It's called denial. D-E-N-I-A-L.

"Look, Thor," I say companionably (I almost throw an arm over his shoulders, but I don't think we've reached that level of buddyhood yet). "He's sorry. He is, man, because I can hear him and shit. He's just too frickin' shy to admit it. And you feel guilty for not realizing what his completely private thoughts and misgivings were, so how about we all shake hands and let bygones be bygones?"

"I.."

"Awesome!" I beam and pump his hand up and down with vigor. "I knew you'd see the light. We can deal with the particulars after we stop the invasion of your brother's former alien-allies. Former allies, of course, not former aliens. They've always been aliens. Of course, the Big Apple might feel cheated if we prevent so many prospective UFO landings, but in the long run people will probably be happier."

"Your little drama over?"

I let out a sigh of relief. With the return of Fury comes the return of law, order, and a comfortable emotional state. Fury doesn't miss a beat.

"Because if it is, your compadre's setting up a portal over Stark Tower at this moment."

"Come again?"

"That's my house!" Tony says in indignation. "The swine!"

"Have you ever heard of Erik Selvig?" Fury asks me.

"My _house_ ," Tony says again, as if he's in a daze.

"Rings a faint bell," I tell Fury.

"He's a good man. Scientist. Loki did something with that scepter to control him."

Something isn't connecting here. I feel like I'm missing something, and it's incredibly frustrating. Control. Scepter. Loki. Pawn. It's like pieces of a puzzle, and all of a sudden they come together smoothly in a beautiful solution that's so simple I don't understand how I could have missed it before.

"Loki, where the hell did you get that scepter?"

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 **R.E.V.I.E.W.**


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